


Philosophy

by stepOnMeZenos



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Cid nan Garlond-centric, Gen, Save the Queen: Blades of Gunnhildr Questline (Final Fantasy XIV), Tempering (Final Fantasy XIV), or something
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-25
Updated: 2020-04-25
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:27:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23841496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stepOnMeZenos/pseuds/stepOnMeZenos
Summary: Cid, distraught by what he has witnessed within his own memory, was planning on simply waiting for his airship to take him away from Gangos.Mikoto had other ideas.
Relationships: Cid nan Garlond & Mikoto Jinba
Kudos: 9





	Philosophy

Despite the militaristic settlement and the general grim (if determined) atmosphere, Gangos was a beautiful place.

Cid sat against a boulder by the shore and watched the waves lapping at the flawlessly white sand. A palm tree provided shade and, if he were so minded, coconuts for sustenance. (He wasn't. He didn't have the tools to crack them, and besides: His father's actions, and his own inability to put a stop to them, had exacted an immeasurable price from the Bozjans. A futile gesture it might be, but he wasn't about to eat their food when he didn't need to as well.) A gentle breeze blew across the bay, providing some respite from the heat.

With the sky clear, with nary a cloud in sight, the ocean had the same colour as the unnaturally bright eyes staring at him over the barrel of a gun. 

To think that he had distorted the memory so much that he had plain not _remembered_ who had shot him. Varis? Why would Varis have done that? He hadn't even been in favour of the meteor project, from all Cid had heard. Why hadn't he ever questioned the absurdity of that memory? 

He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. It had been hours since he had awakened from his trip down the memory lane, and still he could not tell what it was he was feeling. Rationally, he was fully aware that meant he simply hadn't gotten over the initial shock of remembering that it was his own _father_ who had shot and nearly killed him that day. The numbness would pass, sooner rather than later, and then, when the true horror of the realisation set in, he would wish to stop feeling again. 

It was largely out of his hands when that would happen. He would, of course, try to keep it together long enough to make it back to the Ironworks before breaking down. Though Bajsaljen had apologised to him for his initial disdain, there was no shortage of Bozjans here who viewed him with justified distrust. He wouldn't impose. He'd wait until they were sure they didn't need him to recall anything else, and then take the first airship back to Doma and from there on to Eorzea. 

If nothing else, burying himself in work had always helped him suppress thoughts about his troubles. Maybe it would also help in distracting himself from knowing what he now knew. 

The sentence 'my father tried to kill me' still sounded strangely fake when he said it to himself experimentally. It didn't sound _real_ , even though the memory of lying on the ground with blood from his abdomen running over his fingers was viscerally present in his mind. There was a lingering temptation to deny that it ever happened; that it had been his father's finger to pull the trigger was undeniable now, but had it really been _him_ if he had been tempered by Bahamut? 

Were the deeds of one who was tempered truly their own, or was the primal responsible? 

“Bah,“ he muttered. “Philosophy.“ Never one of his strongest suits, but perhaps he would have to face it this time. 

“I studied it a little during my time on the Isle of Val,“ Mikoto said.

Cid actually flinched a little. When had she come so close? He hadn't heard a thing.

“Did I startle you? I'm sorry. I came to tell you that your airship will depart in about an hour.“

“Ah. Thank you.“ An hour. Cid doubted the breakdown would come so soon. It did mean he had a little bit of time to kill, and passing it by talking to the Bozjans was out of the question, so… perhaps he might as well take the chance to clear his thoughts a little. 

“Say, Mikoto,“ he asked, “have you ever interacted with someone who was tempered?“ 

The knowing look in her eyes as she settled down on the sand next to him told him she knew exactly why he asked. Not that that was surprising. She had seen his memories too. 

“Not personally,“ she said. “It was never my main area of study, and the opportunity never arose naturally. I do have some measure of knowledge, however—likely more than anyone else here in Gangos save, perhaps, the Warrior of Light.“

“They departed via teleport spell already, and I'm afraid I'm unlikely to catch up with them anytime soon.“ Such was their wont. They rarely stayed in one place very long, as liberating the star (and then some) of all its problems didn't allow lingering. Presumably there was a primal or two to slay, or a beast tribe to help out, or a different Garlean invasion to strike down. It was a busy life that the Warrior of Light led. 

“Then ask me what you wish, and I'll answer to the best of my ability.“ 

“When someone is tempered, how responsible are they for their actions, truly?“ Cid grabbed a handful of sand and let it trickle through his fingers. “If I were tempered and a primal commanded me to count every grain of sand on this beach—would that be my action, because I agreed to it? Would it be the primals? Who is truly responsible?“

“Ah,“ Mikoto said. “Philosophy. This delves deep into the very nature of responsibility and guilt, something which has kept philosophers all over the star up at night while they penned their myriad contributions to the topic… but that isn't what you're asking, is it?“

“No, I suppose not.“ Cid shook his head. “I'm too old to dance around the subject like this. Did my father shoot me? Or did Bahamut control… something that wasn't my father anymore?“

Mikoto settled down against the rock next to him. For a moment, she gazed out at the sea in silence. Cid let her; if she needed to gather her thoughts before answering, that was preferable to a rushed reply. 

“The truth is,“ she finally said, “that we don't know. Based on my studies—and your own experience—the tempered do recognise those they knew prior to their tempering, even in those cases where they aspire to hurt their loved ones. So, it isn't as simple as a foreign actor taking control of a hapless victim. However, it's also plain that tempering changes a person in very real, very drastic ways. You said yourself that it wasn't like your father to ignore data like he has.“

Cid nodded. “I remember thinking that it felt as if I was talking to a stranger. Father always pushed me to consider every possible angle on whatever project I was working on, even the little things I did as a child. He gave me this building kit with little magitek lights for sixth birthday… it really wasn't much, you could connect them to batteries and they would light up in different colours depending on how you routed it, and he'd still sit down with me and show me how to predict the result ahead of time. He did eventually just let me experiment, but it was important to him that I thought about these things beforehand...“

Those had been happy days. They'd sat down on the carpet together, sorting through cables and diodes and batteries while his father had given him a basic and heavily simplified rundown on the principles of energy routing, and then praised him profusely whenever he had done something right, or encouraged him if he didn't immediately understand something. The jump to more advanced and complicated applications had been gradual, nigh imperceptible, all thanks to his father's guiding touch.

“He taught me to be rigorous about working with magitek,“ he continued after a moment. “It can be a dangerous business even if you don't meddle with ancient Allagan satellites. If you don't do your due diligence, whatever you're working on simply won't function properly, or fail at a crucial juncture—or blow up around you. I credit him for being able to avoid that. How… how ironic that he would fall prey to forgetting his own advice. Or being made to ignore it.“ He sighed. “I'll just have to get used to the ambiguity, won't I? Get used to never knowing for sure?“

“Maybe,“ Mikoto said. “But I think you will find your own answer in time.“

“I know what I want the answer to be. I want to believe that it wasn't my father at all, that he would never have shot me even if someone was forcing him to.“ Even admitting that was difficult. There was another lesson taught to him by his father: never give in to biases. Never stake your fortunes on _want_ and _hope_ and _wish_.

But this wasn't a magitek project, was it? His father was long gone, perished without a trace in the annihilation of Bozja. It wouldn't be like connecting magitek components _hoping_ they'd work and then having the entire thing blow up. 

Grumbling, he kicked at the sand, watching it spray into an oncoming wave. What a ridiculous dilemma.

“Can you disprove it?“ Mikoto asked. “As far as I'm concerned, it's as likely as any other option. Absent further evidence, we simply cannot tell what the truth is. All of them are equal hypothe—“ She sat up straight. “A possibility occurs to me. We may be able to use the crystal to delve into the mind of a tempering victim to ascertain how their memory changed after being tempered, once I recharged it. Doing so could provide insights in the process, even if it is vanishingly unlikely to provide a cure.“

There was an idea. Viewing the memory of the tempering itself. Maybe it wouldn't tell them what being tempered was like, exactly, and how much remained of the person the victim had been, but it would be a step further than what they had right now. On the other hand… 

“You'll forgive me for saying that doing so sounds like a nightmare, even if I see the possibilities,“ Cid said. “I remember what _my_ memory looked like from a third person perspective a little too vividly, and I would _not_ want to experience what tempering does to it firsthand.“

Mikoto made a face. “Me neither, to be frank. I will contact the Warrior of Light about it. It seems nigh impossible to find anything that fazes _them_.“ 

True enough. Someone who faced primals seemingly for enjoyment would not likely be afraid of seeing these memories. For all Cid knew, they might judge it to be a fun challenge, even. 

They were a little unsettling like that sometimes.

“I think that's my airship coming into the bay over there,“ he said. A small speck bobbed up and down over the waves in the distance. Maintaining Gangos as a resistance base right under the nose of the empire required certain measures of caution. Among others, airships never arrived from the air, instead opting to stay close to the waves to avoid detection. They never stayed long, either. 

He rose to his feet and brushed loose sand off his clothes. “I better gather my few things and pack them on the airship. Wouldn't want to delay anyone.“ 

“Then I suppose this is goodbye for now?“ Mikoto, as well, stood up. “I shall keep you updated on any research I conduct in the area.“

“Much appreciated. And… thank you for listening.“

**Author's Note:**

> Do y'all just inexplicably hate this one or why are the stats so abysmal after the first night?


End file.
